


Take it to Court

by TheMarvelousMinniPin



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Author is a dick to Jack Crawford, Courtroom Drama, Episode Fix-It: s02e13 Mizumono, Hannibal is a happy duckling, Happily Ever After, I made it all better, It's Jack's fault, Lawyers, Look I fixed it!, M/M, Mizumono if I wrote it, No more emotional trauma, Post-Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Suck it Fuller, Trials, double jeopardy protection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 05:02:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2297501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMarvelousMinniPin/pseuds/TheMarvelousMinniPin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This happens immediately after Mizumono, but with several significant differences. The most important ones being that Will didn't betray Hannibal, Hannibal isn't the one who stabbed Will, and Hannibal gets arrested because he stayed behind to save Will. Now he's facing trial as the Ripper and for everything that happened in Mizumono, but Will has concocted a brilliant defense for him, so that he'll get away with everything. Franklyn Froideveaux is a defense lawyer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take it to Court

If Hannibal thought about things rationally, he could see that Abigail Hobbs had been the unpredictable factor that had destroyed everything. He should have killed her and made it look like a suicide as soon as she had realized that he had been the man on the phone. No one would have questioned it, and then Nicholas Boyle’s body would never have been dug up and Will would never have realized what he was capable of doing.

Instead, lured by Will’s sweet devotion to the girl, he had promised to free her from Jack Crawford’s suspicion and help her live a normal life. They would fake her death, easy enough. She would hide out with him for a while, until the heat had died down. Then he would give her a new identity; he had the money for such things. She could go live abroad. She had settled on Paris.

It would take more rational thinking to determine exactly what had gone wrong that night. Had it been Jack Crawford? Had it been Will? Had it been Alana? Had it been Hannibal himself? What had provoked the madness that lay dormant inside of that girl?

While Hannibal had been battering the door to his pantry, trying to get Jack Crawford, Alana had run upstairs to get away. She had found Abigail. Abigail had pushed her out of a window. It was still touch and go as to whether or not she would live. Everything was touch and go right now, and Hannibal’s life depended on which way that went.

Will had come for Hannibal, as he knew he would, but it was not the reckoning he had been promised. “You were supposed to leave,” Will had half-whispered.

“We couldn’t leave without you.”

“I would have found you, Hannibal. You aren’t safe here. You really aren’t safe here now,” Will had walked forward and kissed Hannibal with far more gentleness than the man ever thought he could have deserved. He did not deserve this man in front of him. “You let me see you.” Another kiss. “You gave me a rare gift. The most precious I have ever received…but now you’re taking it back. You have to go, Hannibal. They’ll be here soon.”

Leaving then would have been impossible without Will. From the first moment he had the younger man in his arms, letting go had been impossible. It would have torn from him something he could not afford to lose. It was torn from him anyway.

Abigail had come down into the kitchen. Hannibal told Will “A place was made for Abigail in your world. A place was made for all of us, together.” And Will was happy, Hannibal had seen it. What he hadn’t seen was the knife in Abigail’s hand when Will went to embrace her. He didn’t see her gut the man he loved; he only heard Will’s anguished cry. Will stumbled back. The knife dropped. Hannibal caught him before he hit the floor.

Abigail had bolted. She wasn’t entirely stupid. Hannibal was torn for a moment between the two natures that had been at war inside him since the moment he had met Will Graham. Did he follow his savage instinct, chase Abigail Hobbs, and slaughter her for daring to take what was his… or did he stay with the man he loved and try to save his life? Will had clutched onto his arm and whispered “Please,” and Hannibal had left only for long enough to get towels to staunch the bleeding.

He had still been kneeling over Will and applying pressure to the wound when the police arrived. He had been glad, in that moment, that Alana had called 9-1-1 because they sent an ambulance as well. His ER training had kicked in and he had commanded the EMTs perfectly. He would make damn sure that Will lived.

He had climbed into the ambulance, only to be pulled out by the police. He was questioned, though he only told them where to find Jack. He was arrested for murder and attempted murder. “I did not try to kill Will.” He snapped. “Whatever they will say of me, I did not try to kill the man I love.”

Two small mercies had been afforded to Hannibal after his arrest. The first was that he was taken to jail, not to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. The second was that they thought he was too dangerous to be left in a cell with another person. He didn’t go into solitary confinement, but he was given a cell by himself. The mercy he was not given was the one he so desperately needed: no one would tell him about Will.

He asked every single day. In fact, it was often the only thing he ever said (other than “thank you” to those serving the atrocious food, because that was only polite). By the time he had been there for five days, he was getting truly desperate. News came in the form of Franklyn Froideveaux, informing him that he had been hired as his defense attorney.

Franklyn had been more than happy to take his case. He was convinced that Hannibal had saved him from Tobias Budge –he didn’t remember that it had been Hannibal who had broken his neck…or rather, sprained it very well. Franklyn had not only lived, but in fact had recovered near perfectly and was of a stronger disposition. “I got a call from a friend of yours saying that a crazy FBI agent was framing you for murder and asking if I could help out. I need for you to tell me everything you know about Jack Crawford and his obsession with the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“Yes, of course, but would you mind telling me who called you? I don’t know which of my friends may be privy to my situation.”

“Uh, hang on,” Franklyn shuffled through his notes. “He’s actually our chief witness to your defense. His name is William S. Graham. He’s a special investigator for the FBI and has worked with Agent Crawford. Poor guy is laid up in the hospital but he says it isn’t too bad. But you would know, you were there when he got stabbed.”

“Yes, I was.” Hannibal allowed the relief to wash over him in wave. Will was still alive. Will was doing well. Will had hired him a lawyer –and a very good one at that. Whatever Franklyn’s neuroses that caused him to come to Hannibal in the first place, he was a first rate defense lawyer.

“So, Agent Crawford?”

“Agent Crawford is obsessed with the Chesapeake Ripper, in my professional opinion….”

 

“And why is he so obsessed with the Ripper?” Franklyn asked.

Hannibal glanced towards the jury, as if he felt bad for saying what he was about to say. “It is a combination of factors, but I believe that the primary reason is because of his wife’s impending death. He is throwing himself into an impossible case to deal with the fact that she cannot be saved.” The jury looked sympathetic.

“In your professional opinion, Dr. Lecter, is Agent Crawford so obsessed with catching the Ripper that he may attempt to pin the crimes onto an innocent man?”

Hannibal sighed. “It is more complicated than that. Agent Crawford wants to catch the Chesapeake Ripper more than he wants to do anything else –except for save his wife, obviously. To that end, he would have absolutely no interest in capturing a fake Ripper. That wouldn’t do him any good. However I do believe that, in his obsession, he is seeing things that aren’t there. He is making connections that don’t exist and that is how he managed to convince himself that I am the Chesapeake Ripper.”

Hannibal looked right at Jack Crawford as he said that. The man had just barely managed to live after Hannibal’s attack. He was in a wheel chair, sitting in the audience until it was his time to testify…and yet, due to Will’s extreme brilliance, he had become the one on trial. Will had provided a defense strategy for Franklyn that blamed Jack for everything –even his own near death, Abigail’s disappearance, subsequent reappearance, attack on Will, and most recent disappearance. With Will corroborating, saying that he had basically been forced into the conspiracy, Hannibal was going to get off.

Never before had he loved that man so much. He longed to see him, but he had yet to make an appearance at the trial or visit Hannibal in prison. Franklyn said that he was still in the hospital. The knife hadn’t been entirely clean and he had a minor infection that they were monitoring. Hannibal had decided that, once he was officially free, he would take Will somewhere warm to recover fully.

“Would you say that Jack Crawford pushes too hard and has trouble letting things go?”

“Absolutely. Jack Crawford especially likes to push when it comes to the Ripper.”

“Are you referring to Miriam Lass?”

“Objection!” The prosecution lawyer shouted. “Relevance?”

“Mr. Froideveaux?” The judge asked.

“I am seeking to establish a pattern of Agent Crawford’s behavior in relation to the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“I’ll allow it, but keep the focus to that.”

“Yes, Your Honor. Dr. Lecter?”

“Agent Crawford pushed a trainee into illegally digging into leads about the Chesapeake Ripper, and she was subsequently kidnapped, held for years, and had her arm removed. He then pushed her to a breaking point by confronting her with the man she positively identified as the Ripper, causing her to shoot him in the head and have a mental breakdown.”

“And Miriam Lass is not the only person under Agent Crawford’s care who has had a mental breakdown from his pushing. You were asked to treat Will Graham unofficially, so that Agent Crawford could continue to use him for his work, were you not?”

“Yes,” Hannibal confirmed. “And no matter how many times I said that Mr. Graham should be removed from his work, Agent Crawford would not listen. Mr. Graham had dangerous encephalitis and was suffering from hallucinations, but still he was pushed.”

“Mr. Graham was the one who initially fingered you as the Ripper, isn’t that right?” Franklyn lead.

“Yes, but he has since recanted and stated that it was pressure from Jack Crawford that caused him to make that accusation.”

“Indeed. Your Honor, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, we will be hearing from Mr. Graham about that tomorrow, so please excuse me as I leave that point until then. Dr. Lecter please tell me about the third person Jack pushed in regards to the Ripper, Beverly Katz.”

Hannibal shook his head. “Ms. Katz was investigating the Chesapeake Ripper under pressure from Agent Crawford to find him. She did manage to find him, apparently. He sliced her into pieces and displayed her in the same observatory where he left Miriam Lass’ arm. Miriam Lass and Will Graham managed to survive Jack Crawford’s obsession; Beverly Katz was not that lucky.” He looked at Jack again. What little blood had been in his face before had all drained out. He looked defeated. He looked guilty. He held himself accountable for Beverly’s death, and they were poking his sore spot. Good. That should teach him to try to take Will away from him.

Franklyn smiled sadly. “She was a tragic loss. As I understand, she was exceptionally talented in the lab. I’m ready to allow cross-examination, Your Honor.”

“Proceed,” the judge said to the prosecutor.

He was about to, when the door to the courtroom entered and a small man in a suit hurried up to the bench. He got in close to speak to the judge, so close that even Hannibal couldn’t hear. The judge looked shocked. “Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, we have to amend the charges. Abigail Hobbs has been found, alive, and she just confessed to both stabbing Will Graham and pushing Alana Bloom out a window. There will be a fifteen minute recess.”

Hannibal left the stands to join Franklyn. “That was brilliant timing,” his lawyer said. “I have a great private investigator. I can’t tell you the number of cases he has won for me. No matter how well someone thinks they’re hiding, they can never hide from Tomasso. I had an intern run to Starbucks to get us some coffee. It’s not great, but it’s better than anything we can get in the courthouse.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Hannibal replied smoothly. Franklyn still idolized him and when it seemed that the lawyer had made him happy, he was willing to do whatever it would take to get him off of murder.

“This new development also adds credibility to your story. Jack Crawford accused first Will Graham, then you of murdering Abigail Hobbs. Obviously he was wrong because she’s still alive. This makes him look foolish and untrustworthy. That she pushed Alana Bloom out that window also gives credibility to what you were saying about why you had to hide her.”

Hannibal nodded. “As long as it is well presented, this won’t be a difficult case for you, Franklyn. We all know I didn’t do it.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious. If need be, I have a stream of character witnesses a mile long. Friends, patients, people you saved in the ER, heads of charities and art commissions, and a hundred other people you’ve managed to help over the years. You’ll never be convicted.”

“I’m glad you’re so confident. I must say, Franklyn, if I had realized that you have such steel in regards to your legal practice, I might have handled your therapy in a different way. I do believe that your main problem is just stress.”

Franklyn beamed, but his reply was interrupted by an intern with coffee. Hannibal drank it gladly. It was nothing like what he made at home, but it was vastly superior to the swill in the prison. The recess was over before Hannibal had time to ask about Will, and whether or not he might have a moment to speak with the man tomorrow. Instead he had to walk calmly back to the stands to endure another round of questioning.

“Dr. Lecter, you are accused of being the Chesapeake Ripper,” The prosecutor intoned.

“Accused without any evidence, I should like to point out,” Hannibal agreed.

“You say that it is your professional opinion that Jack Crawford is pinning his obsession with the Ripper onto you, but it was not Jack Crawford who first accused you of being the Ripper.”

“No, that was Will Graham.”

“And Agent Crawford didn’t believe Mr. Graham at first.”

“I don’t believe so.”

“Why did Mr. Graham think you are the Ripper, in your professional opinion?”

“That is not an easy question. First it must be taken into account that Will Graham was suffering from advanced encephalitis, as is a matter of court record. His brain was on fire. He was hallucinating, losing time, sleep walking, and having seizures. Despite all of this, he was continually put under intense stress by Jack Crawford, even when both Will and I protested. Will Graham is also an empath.”

“Can you explain to the jury what that means?”

“It means that he can empathize with anyone. He can assume another person’s point of view because he understands them intimately. It is an incredible gift…one that was being abused.”

“And his empathy is what led him to believe you are the Ripper?”

“To an extent. His unstable frame of mind didn’t help. I align with several markers in his psychological profile of the Ripper and-“

“Which markers?”

“Male, middle aged, surgical experience, likely a doctor. I was a trauma surgeon in the ER at Johns Hopkins before I became a psychiatrist,” Hannibal explained to the jury. “I am also rather stoic and, I’m told, suspiciously cool under pressure. Both of these are things I learned in the ER and continue in my psychiatric practice. That might lead someone who is in a fragile mental state, with extreme empathy, to believe that I lack empathy.”

“Will Graham believes that you’re a sociopath?”

“Will Graham, in a state of mental illness, believed that I am a psychopath. He no longer believes so, now that his mind is functioning at its normal capacity again. From a psychologist’s perspective, I don’t meet the criteria for psychopathy. My aunt, Lady Murasaki, was a strong believer in stoicism, and I had that engrained into me from an early age.” In his defense plan, Will had recommended that Hannibal attempt to connect the jury to him, through his childhood perhaps. He wondered if this would suffice. Mischa would not be brought into this.

“And yet he was able to convince Agent Crawford?”

“Agent Crawford has always placed too much trust in Will Graham’s abilities, didn’t fully believe that he was mentally unstable, and was eager to believe what he was being told. He saw what he wanted to see, and so he believed.”

“What happened the night Agent Crawford came to your house?”

“I had invited him for dinner, actually. He is pleasant company and he appreciates my cooking. He arrived far earlier than invited, let himself in, and pulled a gun on me. I panicked and threw a knife at him.”

“Which went through his hand. You seem to have good aim.”

“I was probably aiming for something else,” Hannibal joked.

“What happened next?”

“He attacked me, and we fought. Forgive me, I don’t remember it very well. It was a blur.”

“Do you remember stabbing Agent Crawford in the neck with broken glass?” The prosecutor asked. The jury shifted.

“Yes, that was when he was choking me. I grabbed the first thing I could reach, since I couldn’t see. He then retreated into my pantry and locked the door.”

“What happened next?”

“Alana Bloom arrived. She also pointed a gun at me, alarmed by all of the blood and the mess from the fight. Thankfully her gun was empty.”

“How did you know her gun was empty?”

“Because when she pulled the trigger, nothing came out.” It was only a partial lie.

“You didn’t throw a knife at her?”

“There were no knives on hand. And perhaps I’m a bit old fashioned.”

“What happened next?”

“She ran upstairs. After that I can only speculate. She ran into Abigail Hobbs, and Abigail, who is emotionally disturbed, pushed her out the window.”

“Dr. Lecter at any point during this did it occur to you to call the police?”

“Not until Will Graham was bleeding out on my kitchen floor.”

“Even though Agent Crawford was bleeding out in your pantry?”

“I didn’t know I had stabbed him in the neck; I had been aiming for his shoulder. And I wasn’t really concerned with the fate of the man who attacked me.”

“What happened to Will Graham?”

“He arrived at some point after Alana had been pushed out the window. He found me in the kitchen and we talked for a moment-“

“What about?”

“About what was going to happen after everything that had just occurred. I told him that Abigail was still alive. I was going to explain what had happened with her, but she came into the kitchen. Will went to embrace her, and she gutted him. She ran, and I tried to keep him from dying. Thankfully someone far smarter than me _had_ thought to call the police, and they and an ambulance arrived soon after. I helped the EMTs with Will, then answered what questions the responding officers had, and was taken to jail.”

“So are you claiming that your near-deadly stabbing of Agent Crawford was self-defense?”

“It was self-defense,” Hannibal argued. “He came into my home under false pretenses, pulled a gun on me, and was prepared to shoot me. I reacted. He then attacked me physically and we both fought. I was under no illusions –he was trying to kill me and I was willing to kill him to save my own life. Thankfully that didn’t happen.” Hannibal nodded in Jack’s direction. “Everyone is still here today.”

The jury was lapping up what Hannibal was saying. He knew that he cut a sympathetic figure. He had always been very charming and likable, and Americans had a strange affection for European accents. They all saw a good doctor who had been trying to help someone in need, only to have his good deed punished by an insane obsession.

“You are also accused of being the Chesapeake Ripper,” The prosecutor stated.

“My lawyer believes it is very bold of the DA’s office to put me on trial for that, as there is no evidence tying me to any of the Ripper’s crimes. In fact, as far as anyone can put a date and time on any of his crimes, I have alibies for all but one or two.”

“And during those ‘one or two?’”

“During those I was home alone, and therefore have no alibi. And yet it remains that there is no physical evidence tying me to even a single one of the Ripper’s crimes. All there is on that count is the word of Jack Crawford. Even Will Graham knows it to be a false claim.”

“Will Graham has profiled the Ripper as a cannibal.”

“That may be so, but I am uncertain as to how he decided on cannibalism over surgical trophies. In fact, I do not know if he even still believes that now that his encephalitis has been cured.”

“All of the meat in your house is being tested as we speak,” The prosecutor grinned, as if he thought himself clever. Hannibal wondered if he would be able to kill the man without arousing suspicion. “Even the meat in that freezer in your basement.”

Hannibal was nonpulsed. When he had come to fear that Will was about to betray him, he had gotten rid of his precious store of human meat, and refilled his basement freezer with animals of the four-legged and fowl varieties. Even the food in his fridge was 100% non-cannibal.

“Let it be known, Your Honor,” Franklyn interjected. “That I am filing a motion to have all of the charges related to my client being the Chesapeake Ripper dropped due to lack of evidence.”

“That is understood,” The judge replied, and looked right at the prosecutor. “Mr. Mathers?”

“I would seek to file an injunction because we are still in the process of gathering evidence.”

The judge nodded. “I will make my decision after I hear the testimonies of Agent Crawford and Will Graham. After that I’ll be able to decide if they have any merit. You may step down, Dr. Lecter. I do believe that both sides are done with you for today, and I want to get Agent Crawford in before lunch.”

Franklyn was beaming at the judge as Hannibal walked back to the defense’s table. Jack Crawford was wheeled forward by the bailiff and helped into the seat. After he made his oath, Franklyn started in on him.

“How are you feeling, Agent Crawford?”

“As well as can be expected,” Jack gruffed.

“And your wife? I am sorry that she is being brought into this.”

Jack didn’t respond. He was too sullen.

Franklyn continued. “Agent Crawford, do you believe that my client, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, is the Chesapeake Ripper?”

“He’s the Ripper and the Copycat besides,” came the growled reply.

“Really? Because just a few short months ago, you were certain that Will Graham was the Copycat Killer. You were also certain that he was insane, so why did you believe him when he accused Dr. Lecter?”

“Because even when he was crazy, he still knew what he was talking about. It took him being put in the hospital, away from all of his other cases, to make the connection. He recanted because he’s afraid.”

“You believe that he does think that Dr. Lecter is the Ripper?”

“Yes, he does.”

“And what evidence is there to support this tentative hypothesis?”

“Will Graham-“

“Will Graham’s word is not evidence, especially when he no longer stands by that word. What real, physical evidence is there? Is there any blood, Agent Crawford?”

“No.”

“What about fibers?”

“Well he killed our fiber analyst.”

“Answer the question, Agent Crawford,” Franklyn demanded harshly. Hannibal’s estimation of him rose from “round of brie” to “block of cheddar.”

“No.”

“Any DNA at all?”

“No?”

“Any witnesses?”

“No.”

With every “no,” Jack got more and more despondent. He shrank back in his seat. His skin looked sallow. Hannibal felt victorious.

“So what you’re telling me is that without any proof or evidence or anything other than the word of a man who was literally insane, and who _has since recanted his statement_ , you decided to go into my client’s house and pull your gun on him? What the hell were you thinking?” Jack just sat there, so Franklyn kept tearing in. Hannibal thought he might be able to think of the man as something other than cheese if this kept up.

“What were you going to my client’s house to do? There was no arrest warrant issued for my client, so I know you weren’t acting in an official capacity. You couldn’t have been going to arrest him. Were you going to arrest my client, Agent Crawford?”

“No,” He mumbled sullenly.

“Then what were you going to do?” Silence. “You tried to get an arrest warrant and you were denied. Kade Prunell gave you the direct order to not attempt to apprehend my client. In fact, when she realized that you weren’t going to listen to her, she had a warrant put out for your arrest. So let me ask you again, Agent Crawford. As a desperate, wanted man, what did you go to my client’s house to do?”

Jack knew he had been caught, but he still had an answer other than “to kill him.” He cleared his throat. “I was going there to get him to prove what he was.”

Franklyn stared at him, dumbfounded. “Do you mean that you were going there to try to get him to kill you?”

“Yes.”

Franklyn let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “So this story needs revision, it seems. You, the head of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, without any evidence and on only the recanted word of a madman, with a warrant out for your own arrest, went to the home of an innocent man and pulled your service weapon on him in order to provoke him into attacking you.”

“Yes.”

“Into killing you?”

“Yes.”

“In order to prove that he was the Chesapeake Ripper?”

“Yes.” With every “yes,” Jack deflated more. He had probably already realized how stupid his plan had been, and here it was being thrown back into his face.

“You attacked an innocent man in order to force him to defend himself, hoping he would kill you, while you pretended that his doing so would prove him to be the Ripper. I’m guessing self-defense never entered your mind? You attempted to entrap an innocent man into murder and almost got yourself killed, almost got a subordinate killed, and your consultant Alana Bloom may yet still die. What on earth do you have to say for that? How can you justify yourself?” Franklyn was moving in for the kill. He really was a talented lawyer. He had the jury fully on his side.”

Jack stubbornly insisted, “Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper.”

Franklyn sighed dramatically. “Your Honor, I move to dismiss all charges.”

 

 

The judge did not make his decision about dismissing any of the charges by the next day. He clearly wanted to hear Will’s testimony. First, however, came Abigail’s statement.

“I was scared of Jack Crawford. I felt like he was trying to blame me for my father’s crimes. He thought that I had helped my father. I just wanted everything to be over, but he was on a witch hunt.” Abigail wore a scarf to cover the scar on her neck and a wide headband that covered her missing ear. “I just wanted him to leave me alone. I ran back to Minnesota with Will. He knew I was freaking out and he was trying to do anything to calm me down. But then something happened to him and so I called Dr. Lecter. I think he had a seizure or something, and he ran off. By the time Dr. Lecter arrived, we couldn’t find him.

“I told Dr. Lecter how afraid I was, and told him I was thinking of killing myself.” No such words had ever passed her lips, but Hannibal appreciated the lie. It served his purpose. It would not save her from her fate. “I had a weird panic attack or something, and I ended up cutting off my own ear before he could stop me.”

 _Ah, such a good girl_ , Hannibal thought. _She must really want to live._

“I don’t remember how we decided on it, but we used the ear I cut off to sort of fake my death, I guess. I went into hiding at Dr. Lecter’s house and Agent Crawford didn’t bother me anymore. No one did, and I finally started to feel better.”

“How did your ear end up down Will Graham’s throat?” The prosecutor asked.

“I have no idea,” Abigail responded honestly. “I was away from everything that was going on. Dr. Lecter said it was what was best for me, and I was finally feeling alright again, so I went with it.”

“What happened the night of the fight?”

“I heard a commotion downstairs and I went to check it out. I saw Agent Crawford and Dr. Lecter fighting and I panicked. I thought Agent Crawford had come for me. I felt like he was going to kill me, or throw me to the wolves for what my father did. I ran back upstairs and tried to get myself under control. It didn’t work because I could still hear the fighting. It went quiet for a little while, but then I heard people talking, and then some yelling, and then someone running up the stairs. Alana Bloom came into the room where I was hiding, and locked the door. She was talking to me, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. I –I-I…” Abigail wailed dramatically. “I don’t know why I did it! I was just so scared and I didn’t know what I was doing when I pushed her and she fell out of the window!”

She was given a few minutes to calm down and some tissues. The prosecutor inquired “What happened when you went downstairs, Abigail?”

“Will was there. It was the first time I had seen him since Minnesota but everything was wrong. Everything just felt wrong. I had an old hunting knife with me. I took it in case Jack Crawford was still there. I went down to tell Dr. Lecter about Dr. Bloom and to ask him to go take care of her. But there was blood everywhere and Dr. Lecter was injured. Blood was coming out of the pantry. Will came at me and grabbed me. I didn’t realize he was trying to _hug_ me and I stabbed him in the stomach. I saw what I had done, saw the look on Dr. Lecter’s face, and I ran away. I couldn’t deal with what I had done so I hid.”

“Since you brought it up, what was the look on Dr. Lecter’s face? Did he look angry?”

“No,” Abigail protested. “Not angry at all. He looked scared, _terrified_ even. Like what he loved most was being taken away from him.”

 

 

Nothing had prepared Hannibal for finally getting to see Will again. At first it was like a starving man presented with a feast. His eyes took in every detail, memorizing every line to convince himself that Will was still alive. Then his brain processed the details. Will looked terrible. Wound around his stomach were bandages so thick that he had worn a tee shirt to court, because a button up wouldn’t have fit. The sport coat did nothing to hide the weight he had lost. His skin was pale and sweaty. Hannibal remembered that he had developed an infection. His eyes, however, were clear. He met Hannibal’s eyes as he was wheeled up to the stand and gave him a small, reassuring smile. Hannibal smiled back.

The prosecutor plunged right in. “Mr. Graham, will you please tell the court the nature of your empathy disorder?”

“I have what’s known as pure empathy. I can empathize with any person for any reason, under any circumstance. It happens because I have a much higher than average level of mirror neurons in my brain, allowing me to pick up on and understand even the most minute of micro-expressions, vocalizations, and shifts in body language. I can also apply it to images, words, and scenes. I can get into people’s heads. I know it sounds like science fiction, but my abilities are well documented as accurate and well regarded within the FBI.”

“I am not questioning your abilities at all,” The prosecutor consoled. “I simply needed them explained for the jury. Will you now please explain your encephalitis and subsequent mental breakdown, as is germane to the case?”

“Somehow I managed to develop encephalitis in the right side of my brain and it began causing me to have auditory and visual hallucinations, I began to lose time, I was sleepwalking, I was paranoid, and really I had no idea what was going on. Because of all of those factors, it was feared that I had slipped too far into the heads of the killers I profiled, and had begun killing. I was sent to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane and went to trial, but I was acquitted and it was determined that the Copycat Killer was guilty of the crimes that I was being blamed for. I was actually being framed.”

“You had Abigail Hobb’s ear down your throat.”

“I was losing time for days at a time. If the Copycat Killer was watching me, he would have seen that Abigail cut off her own ear and he would have been easily able to force me to ingest it.”

“For what purpose?”

“To frame me for her murder.”

“At the time, you believed Dr. Lecter was doing that.”

Will hung his head. “That’s how I know that I was really and truly insane at the time. I was making illogical connections and jumps. The evidence wasn’t there, but I was going crazy and I thought it was. I accused the best man I have ever met of being the worst monster I have ever profiled. But now I know that I was wrong. I was going crazy.”

“You absolutely do not believe that Dr. Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper or the Copycat Killer?”

“No, I do not.”

“But while you did, you managed to convince Jack Crawford that it was true.”

“Jack wanted to catch the Ripper so badly that I could have convinced him it was his own mother.”

“After you realized that Dr. Lecter is not the Ripper, did you tell Jack?”

“Yes, I did,” Will affirmed. “But he wouldn’t listen. He thought that I was afraid, or that maybe I was going to go on a killing spree with him. No matter how I tried to tell him, or how many times I pointed out that there was no evidence, he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Were you aware ahead of time of what Jack Crawford was planning?”

“No, I was not.”

“Records show that you called Dr. Lecter from your cell phone that night, right as police officers were pulling up to arrest you on suspicion of attempted entrapment.”

“Yes, I called Dr. Lecter. I had a feeling that Jack might be on his way over. I didn’t know that Jack was going to try to get Dr. Lecter to kill him just to entrap him.”

“What happened next?”

“I drove to Baltimore way faster than was legal. I found Alana outside on the sidewalk, still alive. I put my coat over her and called 9-1-1, but there was nothing I could do for her. Moving her would have risked causing serious permanent damage, like after a car crash. I pulled out my gun and went inside. I found Dr. Lecter in the kitchen and asked where Jack was. I told him that we were going to have to go to the police to explain all of this because the entire situation was fucked up beyond all recognition.

“I was about to call 9-1-1 again when Abigail came downstairs. I went to hug her, and she stabbed me in the stomach. I could see in her eyes that she had thought I was moving to attack her, so I don’t really blame her. She was skittish and I should have been paying attention. I don’t remember anything that happened after that, until I woke up in the hospital and someone told me that Dr. Lecter had been arrested.”

“You called Mr. Froideveaux to be Dr. Lecter’s attorney, is that correct?”

“Yes, I knew they were acquainted and figured he might not have a lawyer yet. I had heard that Mr. Froideveaux is really good at what he does.” Franklyn was glowing under Will’s praise. No matter how Hannibal’s opinion of him had risen in the past few days, he was still a very simple man.

“Your witness, Mr. Froideveaux.”

“The defense has no questions for Mr. Graham, Your Honor. However I am officially motioning for the dismissal of all charges against my client. There is no evidence that he is the Chesapeake Ripper or the Copycat Killer, and with what we have heard in regards to the motive behind Agent Crawford’s provocation, I believe it is safe to say that my client was acting in self-defense. Abigail Hobb’s testimony also clears my client of the charges relating to Alana Bloom and Will Graham.”

“Rise, Mr. Lecter,” The judge said gravely. “With no physical evidence presented and the testimony given as it was, allowing this trial to go on would be a miscarriage of justice. Therefore all charges against you will be dropped, and you will be given full protection of double jeopardy under the law. I know that commonly only comes with acquittal, but with my understanding of Agent Crawford’s nature, I believe you may need it. Please do not stray too far, as you will be required to testify in his trial. You are free to go, with the court’s apologies.”

“Thank you, Your Honor!” Franklyn chirruped.

“Thank you very much, Your Honor,” Hannibal mimicked.

 

“You’re a free man, Hannibal.”

Hannibal turned around to see Will behind him, awkwardly negotiating the courthouse halls with his wheelchair. Hannibal had been pushed out by the tide of well-wishers before he had been able to talk to the other man, but here he was. “I am, thanks to you. Your defense strategy was brilliant.”

“I threw Jack under the bus.”

“Was it worth it?”

“He tried to take what’s mine. He deserves it. I just feel bad for Bella.”

“You won’t have to feel bad for her for long, I’m afraid. You said Jack tried to take what’s yours. Am I yours, Will?”

“Yes,” Will replied simply.

Hannibal smiled. “I imagine you’re tired of the hospital. I am being given my house back. Why don’t you come stay with me, and I can take care of you.”

Will smiled too. “I would like that. Zeller and Price can take care of my dogs for a few more days.”

Hannibal crouched down to Will’s level and looked him in the eye. His beloved did not look away. They came together easily into a kiss. It was soft and warm; unhurried, because now they finally had time. Hannibal was determined that they should continue where they had been cut off before. He felt real potential for a relationship between them. They had a future together.

“Yeah we do,” Will agreed.

“Pardon?” Hannibal wasn’t aware that he had been speaking out loud.

Will just smiled. “I could see it in your eyes. Take me home?”

“Of course, Will.”

Will laughed. “Why do I feel like I’ll be able to get you to do anything, now that I’m all invalid and sad?”

“You don’t have to be invalid and sad to get me to do anything for you.”

Will just kissed him again, sealing their future.


End file.
